12

Stella sat stiffly at the long dining table, hands folded neatly in her lap, pretending to be way more comfortable than she actually was. The silence dragged on, the only sound being the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain as someone picked at their food.

Elizabeth sat to her right, chatting politely with Rose about something Stella had zoned out of five minutes ago. Ward sat at the head of the table, straight-backed and composed, sipping from a crystal glass. The air was thick with formality, like they were all performing roles none of them really wanted to play.

Stella's eyes flicked around the table.

"Where's Sarah?" she finally asked, breaking the silence with a soft voice.

Ward looked up from his plate. "She's off with Topper. They were headed out to the boat last I heard." He didn't sound too bothered—like Sarah disappearing with Topper for hours was a regular occurrence.

Stella nodded, pretending that didn't make her immediately regret coming here. 

Rose chimed in, her voice gentle and practiced. "You'll have to forgive her, Mary apparently needed Sarah for something at the Thornton house."

"Must've slipped her mind when talking to me," Stella said, her smile tight.

Elizabeth gave her a pointed look, the one that said play nice, but Stella was already pushing back from the table.

"I'm just gonna run to the restroom real quick," she said, sliding out of her chair. Rose nodded graciously while Elizabeth offered a polite smile in return.

Stella walked quietly through the hall, exhaling once she was out of sight. She didn't even really need the bathroom—just needed a break from the quiet tension and secondhand expectations.

She turned a corner—and nearly ran face-first into someone.

"Shit—sorry," she said, stepping back.

Rafe stood there, leaning lazily against the wall like he'd been there the whole time. His sleeves were rolled up, arms crossed, the usual unreadable expression on his face.

She blinked. "What are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I live here."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, obviously. I just mean—what, hiding from dinner?"

Rafe smirked, just a little. "Could say the same to you."

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Figured you'd be long gone by now. Or out with Sarah and Topper."

His gaze flicked down the hall toward the dining room before landing on her again. "Didn't feel like playing house tonight."

"Yeah," she said, her voice quieter. "Me neither."

They stood there in silence for a second, something passing between them—unspoken, charged, familiar. Then leaned in a little, lowering his voice like he was about to let her in on a secret.

"You know," he said, "you could always play sick."

Stella gave him a look. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Rose will eat it up. You look pale enough already."

"I do not."

"Fine," he smirked. "Then fake a stomachache. Say the lamb tasted weird."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so eager to get me out of here?"

Rafe didn't answer right away. Instead, he pushed off the wall with that lazy, confident grace he always had. "Because I'd rather be anywhere else than stuck at this dinner."

She hesitated, then tilted her head. "What's your plan? Sneak me out?"

He grinned. "I'll tell them I'm taking you home. Be all gentlemanly about it."

"And then?"

He shrugged. "We'll see."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you being weird?"

Rafe just smirked and pushed off the wall casually, shrugging.

A few minutes later, she was back at the dinner table, holding her stomach lightly, her eyes cast downward.

"I think the lamb didn't sit right," she said softly to Rose.

"Oh, sweetheart" Rose said immediately, concern filling her voice. "Should we get you some water?"

"I'll take her home," Rafe cut in smoothly, already stepping behind Stella's chair. "She probably just needs to lie down."

Wheezie gave a slight snort, reading right through the excuse, while Elizabeth started to object, but Rafe was already guiding Stella toward the front door, his hand lightly at her back, all effortless charm.

The two slipped out the front door in quiet coordination, leaving behind the awkward, heavy dining room air.

Once inside his truck, Stella glanced over as he started the engine but his eyes stayed on the road. He cranked up the radio, leaving one hand on the steering wheel and one firmly on the down-shift.

"This isn't the turn to my house," Stella said, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the engine. She shifted in her seat, glancing out the window as familiar streets gave way to unfamiliar ones. Her brows furrowed, a flicker of confusion settling in her chest. "Rafe, where are we going?"

Rafe tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "You'll see." He huffed, bothered by her impatience.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a small lot beside an old-school ice cream shop near the docks, its windows still glowing with warm yellow light.

Stella turned her head toward him slowly, eyebrows raised. "You brought me for ice cream?"

He gave her a sideways glance and a lazy half-smile. "You act like that's a bad thing."

She shook her head, amused. "I'm just surprised."

Rafe shrugged. "You used to beg me and Christopher to take you here after school everyday. Figured you still liked it."

She blinked at him, caught off guard. "You remember that?"

He didn't look at her when he responded. "I guess."

The words lingered in the air between them as he got out of the truck and walked around to open her door.

The night air was warm but breezy as Rafe and Stella strolled along the beach, shoes in hand, and ice cream in the other.

They'd barely spoken since leaving the ice cream shop—just walked side by side in a silence that wasn't awkward, but thick with something else.

Rafe glanced sideways at her, the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly. "You always walk this slow or is this a show for me?"

Stella scoffed, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. "I wasn't aware I needed to impress you with my walking speed."

He shrugged. "You don't. You're already doing fine."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the smile tugging at her lips. "You always this full of yourself or is that just for me?"

"Little of both," he said smoothly. "But mostly you." Rafe wink, teasing like usual.

They walked a bit further, the crashing of waves the only sound for a few moments. Stella looked ahead, her voice softer now. "I still don't get why you wanted to get out of there. Your family was hosting. Doesn't really scream 'ditch the dinner' moment."

Rafe exhaled, glancing out at the ocean like he was trying to find the right answer in the waves. "That whole scene's not me. It's all fake smiles and fake interest. I figured you could use a break too."

"I didn't think you noticed stuff like that," Stella said, shocked by the honesty.

Rafe gave a lazy shrug, gaze fixed ahead. "Doesn't mean I don't."

His voice was quieter now. There was something in the way he said it, like he wasn't used to explaining himself. He let the silence stretch a moment before adding, "You were saying all kinds of weird shit that night."

Stella tilted her head. "What night?"

He glanced at her. "The night you blacked out. We were on the beach, just us. You were talking about the stars. Saying weird stuff about charts and moons and whatever."

Her mouth dropped open in horror. "You're lying."

"Nope," he said dryly. Then softer, "You were just laying there, pointing at stars like they meant something. Kept saying I was definitely a fire sign, and how you just found out what your moon sign was. Then you passed out."

Stella groaned. "That's so bad. Why didn't you stop me?"

"I dunno," he muttered. "It was kind of... calming."

She glanced at him again. "Me talking about the stars was calming?"

"You weren't trying to impress anyone," he said, shrugging. "You weren't acting like a Kook. You were just... you. I don't see that a lot from people here."

Stella went quiet, letting that sink in. For a long time, all she heard was the ocean and their footsteps in the sand.

"I think I wanted the stars to mean something," she admitted. "Like, if I could read them, maybe everything would make more sense."

Rafe looked at her. "Did they?"

She smiled faintly. "Not really. But it helped for a second." She sighed,

They walked in silence for a while again, more comfortable now. Not needing to fill it with anything.

Finally, Stella said, "Do you remember what you said your sign was?"

Rafe gave her a look. "I never told you."

"Yeah, that tracks."

He didn't respond, just kicked at the sand a little, his face unreadable again. But something about the air between them had shifted. Not romantic, not tense — just honest. And maybe that was enough.